With an open hand, he slapped her face. She read the policeman’s rueful glance when she caught his refection in his rearview mirror. He comforted himself, however, with the certainty which he felt of capturing his prey on the Sunday. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. “I feared we might have a fog. Stanley poured wine. ” “Not in the least,” she assured him. ’ She raised the pistol.
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